


In Which Hawke Invites Fenris for a Bath

by Poppycock_and_Horsefeathers



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Incomplete, M/M, Purple!Hawke, not finished
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 12:58:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4565499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poppycock_and_Horsefeathers/pseuds/Poppycock_and_Horsefeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke invites Fenris over for a bath after a long day of fighting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't gotten all of this edited by my friend, but here's what I've got so far.

Fenris coughed besides Hawke, the extraneous battle finally catching up without the adrenaline in his system. Fresh blood was already drying on his cheeks, mingling with the grime and salt acquired on their day’s trek up the wounded coast. His own blood ran a hot trail across his temple and along his jaw, dribbling splatters onto his armor amongst the rest of the blood. _Maker, I’m staring_ , Hawke realized, too late to avoid catching Fenris’ attention.  
  
“Is there… something wrong?” Fenris inquired, his breath evening. Hawke glanced down, cheeks pink underneath his scruffy beard.  
  
“You’re bleeding”  
  
“Ah, so I am”  
  
They’re walking now, Hawke leading the rest of the party back up to the more rocky parts of the shore.  
  
“You know, Anders could-”  
  
“It’s just a shallow head wound, Hawke. I will survive without _his_ help.” Fenris said indignantly. Hawke shrugged, glad Fenris had seemingly accepted his excuse for staring. He knew very well it wasn’t worth fussing over, let alone calling on Anders to heal it.  
  
Fenris wiped at the wound awkwardly with his upper arm, smearing a streak of red across his forehead. The salt from the beach didn’t help in the mess, caking crimson grit all about his arm and temple. Hawke couldn't help to smirk a little at the attempt.  
  
“You could use a bath, you know” He prodded, hoping to break the silence.  
  
“Says the man who sleeps in bed with his dog.”  
  
“Hey, mabari make _great_ heaters! Your bed is probably as cold as ice in that dreadful mansion.”  
  
“Even colder when bathing is involved.”  
  
Fenris shivered, remembering the icy daggers the stone floors sent through his bare feet, the chill of damp sheets as he struggled for warmth, and the humid air underneath the blankets, clammy on his flesh. He refocused as Hawke cleared his throat.  
  
“Well, I dont know if you would be interested, but I have this lovely bath at the manor. In ground, fresh towels at the ready. I can warm the water,” Hawke smirked,”light some candles... hire a bard...”  
  
This garnered an anxious laugh from Fenris, evoking a grin from Hawke.  
  
“I don’t know about all of that, but a warm bath would be… pleasant” Fenris said slowly, as if saving his words.  
  
“Just pleasant? It’s _got_ to better than that frozen palace.”  
  
“Palace? Does that make me the king?”  
  
Hawke suddenly gave a partial bow, twirling his wrist and tucking his arm against his belly. His staff protruded from behind him at an odd angle.  
  
“Your grace, I am but your humble servant. Allow me to entertain you this evening.”  
  
Hawke’s voice was full of mischief, making Fenris’ ears turn pink. He glanced at their companions far behind them, Varric and Merrill, who had long since given up joining the conversation. They now lagged behind as Merrill stopped to pick at an elfroot sprouting from the cliff side. They wouldn’t hear a word.  
  
“Are you… asking me to join you for a bath?” Fenris ventured, his eyes wide and watching. He could see the cheeks hidden under Hawke’s dirty scruff turn a slightly deeper pink, only just seen behind the mottled red stain on Hawke’s face. They both were sporting ridiculous levels of grit on their skin; seaspray and blood stained into their linens and flesh. Fenris could just imagine the sight of hot water soaking Hawe’s skin, the expression of relaxed pleasure on that face... A heavy feeling stirred in Fenris’ chest, making it hard to swallow. He forced it down so he could speak.  
  
“That would be. Nice.”  
  
Hawke had no witty response this time, the flutter in his chest a little too difficult to push down with a slick remark.  
  
Their steps crunching sand into the rock was the only noise that passed between them until Varric and Merrill caught up again.  
  
“You could cut this silence with a knife! Tell me, Elf, you’re not upset over some careless remark of Hawke’s, are you?”  
  
“I’m not _that_ bad, am I? I would have driven him off by now.” Hawke laughed, accepting the diversion.  
  
Merrill’s voice then suddenly perked up, “Didn’t that already happen once?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working on the next chapter, this is all I have for now.

“Bodahn!” Hawke called, bursting through the manor’s front doors, “I think a bath is in order!”  
  
He dropped his staff onto the nearest chair, making a motion for Fenris to do the same with his greatsword. Every movement they made littered the stone floor with sand. Bodahn scurried up towards Hawke, beaming, with his hands behind his back and his chin up.  
  
“No need to worry, serah Hawke. I already have a bath drawn up for you,” he stated. The dwarf let out a noise of surprise as Hawke abruptly bent over and took Bodahn’s hands in his, holding them to his chest like a lovesick protagonists in one of Varric's novels. The biggest grin was plastered on the mage’s draggled face.  
  
“Bodahn. I think I love you.”  
  
The dwarf stumbled over his words, searching for a way to respond.  
  
“Well, serah, I figured, with a day about the coast and all, you may need a bath to be rid off all that sand and muck. It was hardly any trouble, and the boy helped. Though I’m afraid it may have grown cold, as I wasn’t expecting you to be so late-”  
  
“Don’t fret over me, why don’t you go ahead and call it a night? I think we can warm the bath ourselves.” Hawke had let go of Bodhan’s hands now, but patted his shoulder in reassurance.  
  
“Are you sure? There’s sand everywhere, and I see we have a guest…” Bodahn leaned on his foot, straining to peer around Hawke’s overwhelming stature at Fenris.  
  
“Oh, trust me, I can take care of him,” Hawke insisted, ”and don’t worry about the sand for now, it’s late.” He began to walk around Bodahn, leading Fenris towards the bathroom door.  
  
“Goodnight, Bodahn. Tell Sandal I said hello.”  
  
“Oh, goodnight serah Hawke! I will see you in the morning, thank you. You know where to find me if you need anything.”  
  
He gave a polite nod before exiting to his personal quarters, leaving Fenris and Hawke to their own devices. Hawke waved a hand in the direction of the bathroom door.  
  
“Shall we?”  
  
When Hawke opened the door, a light steam billowed out. Warm air escaped with it, drawing Fenris ever closer to the room. Hawke’s boastful description did not disappoint. The bath was, indeed, in ground; paved with slabs of grey stone and framed with decorative bricks around the square basin. It reminded Fenris more of the natural springs on mountains than a proper bathtub- large enough to hold three people at the most and taking up half of the room space. Fenris could barely make out what looked like a couple of steps cut from stone beneath the water’s surface. Along the bath’s side, Bodahn had even left a pile of carefully folded, fluffy white towels and wash rags. It was definitely a step up from the drafty room at his mansion, with it’s peeling wallpaper, icy floors, and aging metal tub.  
  
“Well this is…”  
  
“Nice?” Hawke offered mockingly. He closed the door behind them, trapping the warm air in the room once again. “It’s probably lukewarm by now, but the steam should help keep things hot… among other things.”  
  
Fenris turned his head to look at Hawke, about to inquire about what he meant, but stopped at the sight of the mage twisting off his gauntlets. He had already managed to kick his cumbersome boots to the wall, revealing more salt and grime coated onto his calves. Bit by bit, his armor fell to the ground, and Fenris studied Hawke with each disarmament. He noticed the tense of every muscle in Hawke’s arm, and the ripple of his abs beneath the leather and linen. Features gone unnoticed in dim firelight now became apparent; small scars and the ravishing dips of Hawke’s figure. Every new piece of apparel dropped accumulated more sand upon the floor and uncovered new bloodstains and hidden marvels of Hawke’s skin until eventually all that was left were his smallclothes.  
  
Hawke was surprisingly fit for a mage, built like a warrior- no doubt thanks to his Fereldan blood. Even when he wore house robes, there was an undeniable force to be reckoned with underneath the silk, and with nothing but smallclothes to cover him now, Hawke’s bestial physique was all the more obvious.  
  
Hawke paused his disrobing, prompting Fenris to finally look up towards his face and make contact with Hawke’s knowing stare. Hawke gave a cocky smirk.  
  
“It’s a lot to take in, I know.”  
  
Fenris scoffed at this recycled flirtation, turning his back on Hawke to begin stripping his own armor.  
  
“I didn’t come here for a reenactment, Hawke.” he stated bitterly. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he began to wonder- why _had_ he taken up Hawke’s offer? What was he expecting from this? As if reading his mind, Hawke spoke up behind him, his voice noticeably closer but barely above a whisper.  
  
“Then what _did_ you come for?”  
  
Fenris swallowed, and the fingers on his belt suddenly fumbled about the metal clasp. It finally fell to the floor atop his gauntlets, sprinkling sand all about. As he began reaching around to unfasten his breastplate, he felt Hawke’s warm presence come closer.  
  
“Let me help you with that, Fenris.” The way Hawke breathed his name raised the hairs on Fenris’ neck.  
  
“I’m not a child, I think I can handle undressing myself.”  
  
“I never said you couldn’t. Just let me help.”  
  
Letting out an indignant sigh, Fenris nodded, relaxing his hands from his breastplate and instead fiddling with the loops on his tunic. It was already getting unbearably stuffy in all of the apparel, his sweat making his flesh sticky beneath all of the layers. It only hastened his unfastening, his fingers stumbling over themselves in anticipation.  
  
_Anticipation?_ , Fenris thought. _Anticipation for what?_ His question was answered by the light touch of Hawke's hand on his back. It sent a shiver down his spine, making his shoulders tense. Hawke is through with the clasp quickly, but before the elf could even bend his elbows to remove the breastplate, his nerves curved his back at Hawke's touch gliding around his ribcage and under the breastplate.  
  
"What are you-"  
  
"Helping, of course."  
  
The prickle of Hawke's beard forced him to restrain from cringing his neck, the little hairs tickling him in the slightest manner. The breastplate fell from his chest and clattered to the floor, pushed away by Hawke's hands. They made their way towards the remaining fastening on Fenris' tunic, pulling Hawke's body closer to Fenris' back until he's pressed upon him. Fenris can feel the heat in his cheeks intensify as Hawke's hands moved, each knot undone revealing more of Fenris' belly.  
  
"Your grace," Hawke's breath is hot on his ears, "did I not say I would entertain you this evening?"  
  
Fenris shuddered, his mind picking over all of the wicked things that could entail. A small noise escaped him in his moment of weakness as Hawke shed the obstructing article of clothing from his flesh, his chest and stomach bare. His lyrium stirred as Hawke's body returned, feverishly hot against his back. Hawke's voice was thick as he murmured into Fenris' ear.  
  
"You can't bathe in your underwear, now, can you?"  
  
Fenris sucked in a breath as Hawke's fingers brushed over his flesh, gracing down the path of his lyrium to the hem of his leggings. He turned his thumb under the cloth and began to tug down. Fenris turned around before Hawke’s hands could make more progress, and at last they were nose to nose. There is a moment of hesitation in the mage’s movement as he comprehended what his next move should be, his hands now dipping down to Fenris' butt with the new standing. The elf wasn't so patient in thought and instead pushed his lips forward into Hawke's.  
  
Hawke’s breath was clipped by the kiss, but he grunted as he returned the favor. Fenris parted his lips, Hawke following in suit, and their kiss deepened in gradual pleasure. Hawke engulfed Fenris with his body, pulling him close into his chest as their tongues meshed together and heat radiated between them. Fenris was lost in the feeling, drinking in the smell of Hawke, the stale seaspray grubby on his skin, the prickle of beard on his chin and lip. Hawke's tongue pressing into his mouth was so slow and forceful, it sent blissful warmth into Fenris' chest. Inevitably, he submitted to the electric spark it sent towards his heart.  
  
As Hawke’s lips worked, his hands brushed downward, around Fenris' bottom, pulling their hips together amidst their kissing. His hands began completing the task of stripping Fenris of his leggings. When his arms reached as far down as they could at Fenris' lower thigh, Hawke resolved by abruptly stopping their kiss with a finishing peck, Fenris scowling with bated breath.  
  
“Perhaps we should move this to the bath?” His words teasing and so tempting as they spilled onto Fenris’ cheek.  
  
Impatient, Fenris kicked the leggings from his ankles, Hawke feverishly following suit. The elf met him again for a reinvigorated kiss as he pressed his body back into him. They both shuddered when their bodies made full contact, the heat of the other's cock eliciting pleasure.  
  
Hawke took small steps backwards towards the bath, leading Fenris on with his lips as they strived to keep each other's hot touch. He hesitated at the first step, pausing Fenris by resting his hands on the elf's tiny shoulders. Plopping his feet onto the first submerged step, Hawke touched foreheads with Fenris and glided his hands down to Fenris' waist, gently tugging him towards the water.  
  
Fenris was compliant, but hissed as he sank his foot into the lukewarm water. Hawke chuckled at his furrowed expression, taking the next step into the bath to make room for the two of them.


End file.
